


Hypnotic

by n3mesism



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, F/M, Het, Romance, also vaguely set with... kuroo as a gigolo huehue, i also hate how the reader came out but also don't, i hate how this came out but also don't, i'm a fake advocator for readers with strong personalities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 16:10:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5133977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/n3mesism/pseuds/n3mesism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is not love, you tell yourself again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hypnotic

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly. Not my best writing, but when is my writing every good. Huehue. Anyway, vaguely set with Kuroo as a gigolo and basically a typical, angsty Reader-Insert fic honestly.

When he takes you by the hand, it's calloused, rough, but it's a gentle gesture. He pulls you towards him, chest against chest, his other hand running through your hair; careful, caring. Shakily, you rise to the tips of your toes and leave a trail of kisses from his jaw to his collarbone. Your soft lips against his rough skin send shivers up his spine and your fingers tangle themselves in his dark hair. 

His lips pull into a smirk, subtle on his lips, hidden from your eyes as he buries his face in your neck and presses kisses up and down it. Your lips tremble as his lips make their way towards them. 

And then your eyes are level with his. His brown eyes are hooded, pupils dilated and they should be the only thing in your mind. He should be the only thing you're thinking of, but he doesn't fill your entire being like you hoped he would. He doesn't take your hands and whisk you away on a journey of pleasure and ecstasy. You find yourself empty, eyes shut tight to block out the dropping feeling in your stomach and the growing sense of uneasiness.

You wake up first, heart heavy in your chest as you rush to your feet. Everything that comes after is clipped and cut, specks of images that you only vaguely remember if pressed about them.

See yourself in the bathroom. Feel the burning sensation of bile rising in your throat. Remember the cool feeling of tile against your bare feet. Hear the sounds of clothing being rushed on, remember the feeling of day old clothing against your skin again. Live through your shoes against the floor as you leave his condo and the dropping sensation coming from your stomach as you walk through the entrance of the lobby.

You see him the next night, messy hair, confident aura and eyes that say, 'I know exactly what I'm doing,' but he's not here for you this time. Or maybe you're not here for him his time. From the look in his eyes, and the dropping feeling in your stomach, you know what your answer is.

Dim lights, dark red walls and warmth against your cool skin. He walks up to you, he knows you, he knows what you want, but you turn away from him and walk towards the desk because this isn't healthy. This attachment between the two of you, this co-dependence, this relationship will be the death of you and you're not sure you want death so early in life. 

He grabs your wrist as you walk away, you pull it from his grasp and look over your shoulder at him. 

Somewhere in his eyes, you can tell he's buried the stinging pain that is matches yours behind silent apathy. His gaze tugs on your heart-strings, but you pull away from his gaze before he can suck you in like a whirlpool of passion he's done so many nights before. You walk away, heels clicking against cold, black slate to find solstice in someone else's eyes, somebody else's body.

You wake up the next morning in someone else's bed, someone else's arms. Your unfamiliar between these sheets, but it doesn't matter. An arm pulls you close, hugs you against their chest and you close your eyes and indulge in this moment. 

You've forgotten the man with dark hair, gray eyes and comforting sheets for this moment, but only for this moment. When your eyes open again, around midday and you're alone, you'll miss him. 

Your body, your heart, your soul, it'll yearn for him in every single way, but you will deny yourself the pleasure of his presence. If only because this addiction you have, this mutual addiction wrapped in false passion and comfortable arms is nothing more than that. No matter what you say, no matter what he says, no matter how many times you tell each other you love each other, you know it is all false and lying to yourself any longer will only ruin the both of you.


End file.
